National anthems: we've all sung them in school or at sporting events
... but what do you really know about them? Did you know that The Star-Spangled
Banner got its tune from a drinking song? Or that the Dutch national anthem,
"Het Wilhelmus" was once co-opted by the Nazi? Read on:

Great Britain: This One's for Hymn!

In
most languages other than English, the word for what we call a "national
anthem" translates roughly to "national hymn." And, to
be fair, that's probably an accurate portrayal of these songs, which pay
solemn homage to one's country and leaders in a style that isn't too far
removed from religious praise. Unlike the content of your local hymnal,
however, most national anthems weren't intentionally written for the role
they now fill. Rather than poet laureates, their authors tend to be random
patriots and they usually earn their vaunted place in society not by decree,
but by popular acceptance. By the time politicians get around to legally
making the anthem national it's already been loved by the public for decades
... if not longer.

Prime example: "God Save the King," the national anthem of
choice for the people of Great Britain. Nobody has any idea who wrote
this puppy, but it must have been composed at some point prior to the
16th century when the words - in Latin - first appear in print. But, while
the general theme ("Hey we sure do like the king and we hope that
things go well for him") has remained intact, the specific lyrics
have fluctuated considerably over the years and no official version has
ever been canonized.

The lyrics appear to have been compiled from a number of different sources,
including the Bible, where the quote "God save the King" appears
no fewer than three times. The entire second verse, meanwhile, was probably
cribbed from a Church of England prayer associated with the commemoration
of the foiled 1605 Gunpowder Plot to kill the King and members of Parliament.
(And, speaking of plagiarism, it's worth noting that Norway's national
anthem is, essentially, "God Save the King" translated into
Norwegian.)

By the late 1500s, the song had become so popular that its key lyrics
were incorporated into a series of passwords for the British Navy. To
identify fellow navy men you hadn't previously met all you needed to do
was walk up and say, "God save the King." If that peculiar fellow
also had his sea legs, he'd reply, "Long to reign over us."

The Netherlands: It Could be Verse

Another
common feature of national anthems: they usually have far more verses
than you're used to singing. Take the Netherlands' anthem, "Het Wilhelmus."
When attending to matters of state (and sporting events) the Dutch commonly
sing this as a two-verse medley. However, what they're actually belting
out are the first and sixth verses of a 15-verse extravaganza written
in honor of the Dutch Prince William of Orange in 1568.

Oh,
and did we mention that it's all written in first-person? To sing the
song, Dutch people everywhere must briefly adopt the persona of William
of Orange, as he vows to remain true to his country, to God, and to the
fight against tyranny, and (oddly for a Dutch national anthem) to the
King of Spain.

Weirder still, it turns out that the tune of "Het Wilhelmus"
has led a seedy life. During the 1930s and '40s, the music (set to vastly
different lyrics) was co-opted as the "Treuelied," the Nazi
SS song of loyalty.

The United States: Dive Bars and Stripes Forever

On
the night of September 13, 1814, at the height of the War of 1812, lawyer
(and sometime poet) Francis Scott Key was sent by the U.S. government
as an emissary to pick up a minor POW named Dr. William Beanes from where
he was being held on a British military ship near Baltimore. Beanes had
been arrested for "harassing British soldiers" after they'd
conquered Washington, D.C., a few weeks previously. (We like to imagine
this involved a lot of rude gestures and early attempts at "ye mother"
jokes.)

At any rate, the British agreed to release Beanes, but told Key that
he and the doctor would have to wait until the morning to leave. As it
turned out, Key had shown up right as the British were preparing to attack
Baltimore and its Fort McHenry.

Bombardment of Fort McHenry

Key ended up with a prime view of the ensuing firefight, watching it
from the deck of one of the ships doing the attacking. When, at dawn,
he saw the American flag still flying over the Fort, Key was so relieved
that he immediately scribbled down the first couple verses on an envelope.
But don't blame him if you can't hit the high notes. Key had nothing to
do with the tune. At some point after his poem was published, some unknown
person attached it to the music of an older song: The theme of the Anacreontic
Society.

So, what was the Anacreontic Society? Believe it or not, it was a gentleman's
club (read: excuse for rich guys to get together and drink) that was popular
in England during the 18th century. Dedicated to the booze and babes-filled
poetry of the Greek writer Anacreon, they composed a stirring, epic, and
perhaps intentionally difficult-to-sing anthem for him in 1870. Not surprisingly,
the song was written to be sung at "meetings" with each verse
ending with the lyrics, "and besides I'll instruct you like me,
to intwine/ The Myrtle of Venus with Bacchus' Vine."

Japan: Serious Mourning Glory

One
of the oldest national anthems in the world, the "Kimigayo"
was officially canonized back in 1888 (in contrast, "The Star Spangled
Banner" didn't become our anthem until the 1930s). However, the components
of the song are even older still.

An imperial court musician put together the tune in 1880, opting for
a mournful, dirge-like melody that set the "Kimigayo" apart
from its march, waltz, and drinking-song-influenced counterparts.

A Sazare-ishi, a kind of boulder grown from pebbles, on the grounds of
the Shimogamo Shrine in Kyoto. Photo credit: Wikipedia

The lyrics, meanwhile, are several hundred years old, dating to the 10th
century when they were first written down in a poetry anthology. They're
written as a "tanka," a stylized haiku-like poem composed of
five lines and 31 syllables. As such, they're also extremely beautiful.
To wit: "May the reign of the Emperor continue for a thousand,
nay, eight thousand generations and for the eternity that it takes for
small pebbles to grow into a great rock and become covered with moss."
Wow. Now that's what we call lyricism!